


Feeding the Frenzy. A Domestic Scene in the Mirror Universe

by TLara (larissabernstein)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Bottom James T. Kirk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, Force-Feeding, Hand Feeding, Humor, M/M, Mirror Universe, Old Married Couple, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Soul Bond, Space Husbands, Telepathic Bond, Top Spock, a touch of crack, bondmates, movie era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissabernstein/pseuds/TLara
Summary: A moment of twisted domestic bliss in the TOS mirror universe (at a later stage - what we would call the original movie era in the standard universe). Spock knows how to take care of his Admiral Tiberius.This little fic doesn't take itself too seriously and was written many ages ago, for a friend's zine that unfortunately never got printed. I decided to put it online here, for old times' sake. Picture an older and delightfully podgy Mr Shatner for full impact. ;-)
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Mirror James T. Kirk/Mirror Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Feeding the Frenzy. A Domestic Scene in the Mirror Universe

**Feeding the Frenzy. A Domestic Scene in the Mirror Universe**

It was the distinctive smell that let him come to, sweet and pungent at the same time, a mix of Terran and Vulcan aromata, sweat and incense, musk and blood — or maybe it did nothing to aid with his regaining of consciousness, but was merely the first thing his senses were exposed to. His mouth and throat felt dry and raspy, but he was not sure whether this was due to a longer deprivation of liquids or from hours of shouting and screaming. Probably both.

His eyes hurt under the tightly bound blindfold, and he knew even without seeing them that his wrists and ankles were a raw mess of burning abrasions, courtesy of the now dust-dry leather ties which a very diligent first officer had thoroughly soaked in vinegar before use.

The air was hot and dry, and yet shivers ran through his body and let his naked skin ripple from the outstretched arms above his head down to his toes. He felt goosebumps appear all over his spread-eagled form on the bed although his sweat had dried some time ago. It was not evaporative heat loss but the cold feeling that accompanies the increasing awareness of being helpless and at the dubious mercy of his tormentor. Anger and the urge to resist and fight kicked in again, skills that command training and his career in the Empire had fiercely planted into his personality, hereby only adding to his natural strength of will and bravado. One did not make it to the rank of an admiral in the Empire from nothing — or better: one did not survive long enough to even have the chance. It took a will of steel, a sufficient lack of conscience, and an ego big enough to boldly risk the most audacious bluffs and unconventional strategies. And, yes, if he were honest with himself — but this was an utterly inconvenient position to give in to such musings — it took the loyalty of and the backing by a mysterious first officer who seemingly had no interest in usurping command and captaincy himself. Or this was at least the strange reason the Vulcan had given him time and again over the course of the last twenty years whenever Kirk had questioned his motifs. Spock — the stalwart first. Castle and knight at once, cruel queen and unholy bishop. And a bondmate who could reduce Kirk to a trembling and screaming mess, tear down his shining armour and destroy all that was holy to Tiberius the Great.

Spock. That bastard!

Kirk clenched his teeth and pulled at his ties with anger-fed vigour, but his effort was only rewarded with excruciating pain shooting through his limbs as the leather bit deeper into his flesh — and with Spock's laughter of amusement and carnal satisfaction ghosting through his mind.

He sighed in frustration. There he was, in Spock's quarters, without the protection by his own guards and bereft of the air of command, all laid out for an observer that had the guts to leave him all alone, spurning the prey and preferring to sneak around in its mind, testing and probing.

_/And a lovely prey you are, James, I will take good care of you./_

Kirk shook his head violently, which was the only part of his body he could actually move, unrestrained by shackles, without causing too much harm to his already martyred flesh.

"Damn you, Spock, get out of my head and your skinny arse back into the room, if you dare, you pointy-eared pussy!"

Kirk's voice was hoarse but still powerful enough to convey his full rage. Just moments later he felt the alien presence in his head withdraw and reduce itself to the faint hum of the marital bond in the back of his mind he had become used to.

"So impatient," Spock's dark voice rumbled close to his face. "Do you really think I would leave my favourite toy all alone for long?"

Kirk flinched. He had not heard the door to the fresher or to his own quarters open nor Spock's steps coming closer. He hated it when that man sneaked up on him! Or had the Vulcan even left the room? Maybe he had been here all the time and only made his bondmate believe to be alone — this telepathic shit was just made for manipulative tricks.

A chuckle from the man. "No, it was not necessary to manipulate you. I had indeed left to get a nutrient repast for you, as is my duty as faithful bondmate and first officer."

Kirk did not need to see to immediately know that his unemotional Vulcan grinned at him right now. And it felt fucking creepy!

He snorted and turned his face away from the unseen grin. "I will kill you for that, Spock, do you hear me? Assaulting your commanding officer is punishable in the prettiest ways, and I — "

"Oh, I am sure you have already considered many creative punishments, James," Spock's cool words and a strong hand on his unprotected balls stopped him. "But you forget that you are at my mercy right now, as I have you — I believe the Human phrase is — 'by the testicles'. I must admit I am rather attached to them — and I am sure you will agree to my assumption that you are as well?"

Spock's grasp tightened until Kirk's teeth drew blood from his lower lip in his unsuccessful attempt to stifle a moan both of pain and lust. Spock's other hand busied itself with the blindfold over Kirk's eyes, and the first thing he finally saw after some squinting and getting reacquainted with the dim light in the First's quarters — dim but still so much brighter than the darkness of eyes forced shut — was his husband's face, the features carefully ruled into an impassive poker face; the wide-blown pupils, however, resembled two smouldering coals, testifying to a feral passion. The pale complexion shimmered with the slightest touch of green, while the dark beard offered a potent contrast to the skin, both enhanced by the pale blue silk robe Spock was wearing.

The hand on Kirk's balls began to ease its grip and settled for featherlight touches instead, more teasing the fine hairs than actually making contact with the tender skin, while Spock's gaze did not leave Kirk's face, with his bondmate obviously intent on closely observing even the smallest reaction. Kirk felt his cock grow hard again, and it did not really matter whether this was due to the soft manual stimulation or the intense look upon the Vulcan's face.

"Oh, damn it, Spock, don't be such a fucking tease," Kirk hissed through barely open lips. "You haven't been that chaste during the last few hours!"

The hand stilled before it drew back completely. "No. You have to eat something first to regain your strength."

"Spock!" Admiral Tiberius was not going to whine or beg, not he! "Spock, this is an order!"

But the first officer simply moved out of Kirk's field of view to the other side of the room divider. "I hate you!!!" Kirk shouted at the top of his lungs after him.

Spock reappeared with a tray filled with small rolled pancakes, various fruits and sauces, and an obscene mountain of whipped cream, and looked at him with hardly concealed amusement. "You hate me? I see I have chosen my bondmate well, James."

He sat down on the bed next to his victim, and long, elegant fingers picked up one of the pancakes, dipped it into chocolate sauce and brought it close to Kirk's face.

"And I fucking hate pancakes as well. Cissy food!" The admiral angrily spat the words at his husband.

"Good," Spock answered, "this will make our meal even more enjoyable to me then." Out of the blue, Kirk felt his nose pinched shut so that he automatically opened his mouth in a surprised gasp, and immediately the rolled dough was pushed halfway in. Spock nodded contently when Kirk instinctively started to chew on it while trying to breathe through his mouth around the sweet obstacle. Kirk swallowed noisily just to show him how much disgust he held for this food as well as for his brazen bondmate.

He saw Spock's hand wander back to the tray and pick up another pancake, this time dipped in some kind of fruit sauce, and he completely focused on the food which moved closer and closer to his lips, so that it came as a mouth-opening shock to him, when he suddenly felt Spock's other hand on his cock, forcefully fisting it to full hardness in a matter of moments.

"You will find that this repast offers you the best range of vitamins, proteins, and carbohydrates." Spock was in full lecture mode. "Sugar will help to balance your drained blood sugar levels, and there's also enough butter in this meal that your abdomen will not risk losing any of its valuable fat deposits to our strenuous activity."

"You always want to fatten me!" Kirk protested, but the sensations _below_ his abdomen were too delicious to ignore. His cock was titanium-hard now, and he felt the first glistening pearls of pre-cum leak from the small slit.

"You talk too much, Admiral," Spock emphasised the rank, "which is a sure indicator of your mouth being not as occupied as it should be." And just then Kirk got a handful of blueberries stuffed into his mouth while Spock thumbed the tip and underside of his aching cock with expert skill — only to stop abruptly when Kirk clamped his lips shut to resist the force-feeding of another pancake.

Two fingers out of the blue, however, forced into Kirk's sphincter proved sufficient to loosen both openings rather fast. And another fruit-stuffed pancake found its way into Kirk's throat, followed by a refined prostate massage on the other end of his body, and two Vulcan mouthfuls of whipped cream fed lips to lips.

He wanted to bite his tormentor, but the pressure on his treacherous gland was too exquisite, too torturous, too sweet for Kirk to offer any mentionable resistance against another onslaught of vitamins in the innocent form of strawberries and slices of a banana.

Stars danced before his eyes, and sparks of pleasure ran through his tight passage, setting his whole body on fire. He desperately tried to impale himself more deeply on the fingers while bucking his hips and trying to catch some friction for his cock on Spock's robe. But Spock spoke the dreaded words — "This plate has to be empty before you are allowed to orgasm."

"I — Spock, I can't! I'm already so full and — no, I can't — please, let me come ..." 

Kirk was a mess; his face felt sticky with traces of chocolate and fruit sauce smeared all over his cheeks and chin, and his breath came in short puffs. When Spock finally pushed the tray aside, relief seemed to be within reach. Or was it?

"Only two pieces of fruit and one pancake separate you from your orgasm, James. Is the great Tiberius really not man enough to take it? Does he need his first officer to help him?"

With this Spock stood up and let the pale blue robe glide from his body to the floor. Kirk could only marvel at the sensual sight for a few moments, before he was straddled by him, with the engorged alien shaft looming proudly just above Kirk's sticky lips. A well-aimed slap with the greenish cock into his face took Kirk by surprise, and the minute he opened his mouth Spock stuffed the remaining food into his cake-hole and sealed it with the offending dick.

Kirk choked under the attack, hardly reining in his gag reflex — but the reflex of survival was strong enough; so he swallowed convulsively to get the dough and fruit bits out of the way while the Vulcan fucked his mouth and pushed the food deeper into his throat. Tears shot into his eyes — he was so close. So close to being suffocated by his first officer stuffing and fucking him raw. Kirk's cock bounced helplessly in the air with each thrust Spock gave, untouched and neglected, but harder than ever and on the verge of bursting. Then a billow of primal arousal and brutal desire flooded his mind as soon as Spock touched the meld points and opened their connection in a wide and merciless arc of lust. And there was something else above all — Spock's love, so much mad love for the commander of the ISS Enterprise. Unconditional and sick. And absolutely requited.

With the realisation came an orgasm so powerful that it crushed the great Tiberius under its impact, a blazing white-hot light taking over his eyes and mind, his screams and grunts only muffled by the green hardness that plundered his oral hole — and almost simultaneously the fleshy obstacle pulsed and twisted in him, flooding his mouth, throat, and nose with its hot magma. Kirk's untouched cock continued to shoot ropes of semen into the air, draining the last bit of tension out of his quivering balls and reckless soul.

It was so good to be loved and taken care of, after all.

But the bastard would pay — just you wait, Spock, just you wait!

**Author's Note:**

> Did my younger self really describe Spock's cum as "hot magma"??? Damn. Good old times. :-)))


End file.
